


Irrumpo Ritus

by Chris_Atola



Category: D.N. Angel, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Magic Kaito
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Gen, Horcrux Hunting, Lampshade Hanging, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chris_Atola/pseuds/Chris_Atola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Voldemort hadn't been resurrected in Goblet of Fire? What if Harry had help in hunting down the horcruxes a bit earlier than in canon? AU from book 4 onward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mixture of manga and anime canon for DNA, book-verse for HP. And yes, Wormtail’s omission of the bone of the father was deliberate on my part. I was trying to come up with the best way to interfere with the ritual, and well...
> 
> As for the title - according to a couple of online English-Latin dictionaries these words individually mean "interrupt" and "ritual". I've never taken a Latin course in my life, so I have absolutely no idea whether that's correct or not. If you find yourself wincing too badly, please let me know the correct phrase so I can fix it!
> 
> This chapter references GoF pretty heavily, with lots of paraphrasing. The next chapter shouldn't be anywhere near as bad from that point of view.

Wormtail lowered the unidentified, disturbing creature into the cauldron. It hissed as it disappeared under the water and was gone. Harry heard it hit the bottom with a quiet, dull thud.

 _Let it drown_ , Harry pleaded in his head, _please let it drown._ But Wormtail advanced on him with a long, thin and shiny silver dagger and uttered "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe," as he pressed it into the crook of Harry’s arm. He dug a glass phial out of his robes and used it to collect Harry’s blood.

Wormtail stumbled back to the cauldron with the phial and poured its contents into the water which instantly turned a bright, burning white. Suddenly, out of the dark sky, a bolt of lightning shot into the cauldron. Wormtail squeaked as he was thrown back, and Harry blacked out for a moment.

When he regained his senses he could feel something was different. His body was moving, untying itself without his input, and standing up. _I need to get Cedric and get to the portkey_ , he thought desperately, and was surprised to feel whoever was controlling his body comply. Most of the Death Eaters were still only semiconscious, and only a couple of them made any attempt to stop him. Whoever it was easily dodged the badly aimed curses, even with his injured leg, and had a hold on both Cedric’s body and the portkey before any of the still conscious Death Eaters knew what had happened. Harry was relieved to feel the tugging sensation of the portkey activating.

Moments later he found himself slamming into the cold, hard ground, in control of himself once again. Winded and dizzy, he clutched the two things he held - Cedric and the Cup - even tighter in a desperate bid to stay conscious.

There was a deafening blast of sound and hands roughly seized his shoulders. Someone shouted his name and Harry looked directly into Dumbledore's worried eyes. "Headmaster," he gasped, "Voldemort tried to come back. Did some kind of ritual. Don't think it worked. They killed Cedric!"

The next couple of hours passed in a bit of a numb blur, Harry reflected as his Sleeping Potion took effect. The fake Moody’s confession, the Veritaserum, the meeting in Dumbledore's office... Harry’s vision swam as his exhaustion, aided by the potion, took him under, and he knew no more of what was happening around him. Instead he found himself in a bright white, featureless room facing a tall, purple-haired teenager with... wings? Black wings? Harry blinked in surprise and warily asked, "Who are you and where are we?"

The winged teenager smirked and said, "We're in your head. I'm the great Phantom Thief Dark Mousy!"

Harry frowned in confusion. "Who?" A momentary pause, and Harry had a sudden flash of memory. "Wait, I think one of my teachers in primary school mentioned a Phantom Thief Dark: they were discussing the latest Kaitou Kid heist. Said it reminded him of something he saw on the telly as a kid. But what are you doing in my head?"

And so Dark launched into an explanation of his own origins as one half of the Black Wings artwork, his former status as Niwa family curse - here Harry's eyes widened and he fired off a series of questions, which Dark answered to Harry's satisfaction before continuing - and the reasons behind his heists, and finally his sealing of Krad and himself in the Black Wings.

Just as Dark's explanation came to a close Harry jerked awake to find Dumbledore stepping into the Hospital Wing carrying a large, heavy-looking sack. The Headmaster walked over to Harry and deposited the sack on his bedside table. "Your winnings," he said. "There was supposed to be a presentation ceremony, but in the current climate I felt it unwise. Minerva," he continued, turning to face the others in the room, "I would like to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible, as well as Madame Maxime if she will consent to come."

Professor McGonagall nodded wordlessly and left.

"Poppy," Dumbledore addressed Madam Pomfrey, "Would you kindly go down to Professor Moody's office, where I believe you'll find a very distressed house-elf by the name of Winky? If you would do what you can for her and take her to the kitchens, where I think Dobby will look after her for us."

"Very well," said a very startled Madam Pomfrey, and left.

After ensuring that the door was shut and that Pomfrey's footsteps had faded away Dumbledore spoke again. "Now, I believe it's time for two of our number to recognise each other for what they are. Sirius - please resume your usual form."

Harry and Dark watched as Mrs. Weasley and Professor Snape each expressed shock over the true identity of the black dog that until then had been sitting on the floor. **Who's that** , Dark asked Harry, referring to Sirius.

 _That's Sirius Black, my godfather. He was framed for my parents' murder when I was a baby. He escaped from prison last year and hasn't been cleared yet: that's why I don't live with him_ , Harry replied, slightly distractedly.

Snape and Sirius reluctantly shook hands and Dumbledore continued, "Sirius, I need you to set off immediately. Gather up the old crowd, and lie low at Lupin's for a while - I will contact you there."

"But..." Harry started to say: he really did not want Sirius to go away again so soon. After all, he hardly got to see the man.

"You'll see me again soon," Sirius told him, "I promise. But I have to do what I can - you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry responded, "Yeah, of course I do."

Sirius grasped his hand for a moment before nodding to Dumbledore, transforming back into a dog and running across the room to the door. He pressed the handle down with a paw and was gone.

"I must go downstairs," Dumbledore announced, "I must see the Diggorys. Drink the rest of your potion, Harry. I will see all of you later."

Harry fell back against his pillows as Dumbledore left. Neither Mrs. Weasley, Ron nor Hermione spoke for a long moment, and Harry felt no inclination to break the silence. Finally Mrs. Weasley said, "You need to take your potion, Harry. Try and think of something else for a while. Think of what you’ll buy with your winnings!"

"I don't want the money. Somebody, anybody else can have it. It should've been Cedric's." The horror and tears he had been fighting on and off all evening finally caught up with him, and his eyes started to tear up. Harry stubbornly looked up at the ceiling. Dark remained tactfully silent.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," Mrs. Weasley told him.

"It was my idea for him to take the Cup with me," Harry insisted.

Harry felt a funny lump in his throat, and wished Ron would look away. Out of the blue, he felt someone's arms wrap around him. Mrs Weasley was hugging him. _I've never been hugged before_ , Harry noted silently. The full weight of the night's events came crashing down on him as Mrs. Weasley held him close. Everything he had seen that night spun in his head until it became unbearable, and he fought the howl of misery building up inside him.

They were startled apart by a loud slamming noise. Hermione was standing by the window with a death grip on something small.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Mrs. Weasley wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and said, "Your potion, Harry." He picked up the goblet containing the rest of his potion and downed it in one gulp, and was instantly swept off to sleep.

__

He remembered hardly anything from the week after the Third Task, Harry reflected as he loaded his things into the train compartment Hermione, Ron and he had claimed. Of the few things he did remember, his meeting with Cedric's parents had been the most difficult. They had been relieved to learn that Cedric barely knew what hit him, and had told Harry to keep the money, in spite of his protests.

When Hermione pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet and pointed out the complete and utter lack of Rita Skeeter's rubbish, Ron expressed disbelief. "How can that rotten woman stay quiet?" he asked.

"Oh, Rita won't be writing anything at all in the near future. Not unless she want me to spill the beans on _her_! I found out how she's been getting all those interviews," Hermione announced.

"How was she doing it?" Harry asked immediately.

"And how did you find out?" Ron added.

"Well, it was really you who gave me the idea, Harry," Hermione started.

"Me?" Harry asked, surprised, "How did I do that?"

" _Bugging_ ," said Hermione happily.

"But I thought those didn't work at Hogwarts," Harry protested.

"Oh, not electronic bugs," Hermione amended in a trembling voice, "You see, Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus: she can turn into," here she pulled out a little glass jar, "A beetle."

"Surely you're joking," Ron protested, "She can't be...!"

"Oh yes, she is!" Hermione exclaimed and held out the jar for the boys to see. There, sitting on top of a few leaves, was a large, shiny beetle. "I caught her in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll see the markings around her antennae are just like her horrible glasses."

"There was a beetle on the statue the night Hagrid told Madame Maxime about his mum!" Harry realised.

"Exactly, and I've seen beetles somewhere near every event Rita reported on," Hermione agreed. "She's been buzzing around all year eavesdropping and then writing about what she heard."

"So Malfoy was holding her when we saw him under that tree," Ron caught on.

"And that's how she got those interviews with the Slytherins: they knew about her," Hermione added. "I told her I'd let her out when we get to London. I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, so she can't transform. And she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year - see if she can't stop telling horrible lies about people." Smiling serenely, Hermione stuffed the jar back in her bag.

Half an hour later the Weasley twins stopped by, and Harry had a thought. "So, are you going to tell us? Who were you blackmailing?"

"Ludo Bagman," the twins chorused. "Stupid git," Fred added. "Remember the bet we had at the World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah," Harry and Ron said in unison.

"Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots. It had vanished the next morning," George continued. "We thought he'd made a mistake and wrote him, but he ignored the letter. Even made excuses to get away when we cornered him at Hogwarts. Turns out he hasn't got two galleons to rub together, after he made a bet with the goblins and lost. Still wasn't enough to cover his debts, so he made a run for it after the third task." He heaved a great sigh and asked, "Exploding Snap, anyone?"

The rest of the journey passed pleasantly, and Harry wished it would take all summer so he could avoid spending it at the Dursleys', but all too soon the train pulled into King's Cross station. Ron and Hermione grabbed their trunks and left, but Harry stayed put.

"Fred, George... wait a moment." As the twins turned Harry opened his trunk, pulled out his Triwizard winnings and pushed it toward them. "I want you to have this. Take it, I don't want it."

"What?" Fred asked, flabbergasted.

"You're mental," George said, trying to push the money back to Harry.

"No, I'm not. Take it, it's for the joke shop," Harry insisted.

"He _is_ mental," Fred gasped.

"Listen," Harry said, "If you don't take it, I'm throwing it away. I don't need or want it. But I reckon we'll all want a few good jokes before long."

"Harry," George protested weakly as he picked up the bag and weighed it in his hands, "There's got to be a thousand galleons in here!"

"Yeah," Harry grinned, "Think of all the canary creams you could make with that." When Fred looked like he was about to protest again, Harry continued. "Look, take it or I'll hex you. I learned some good ones this year. Just do me a favour and get Ron some new robes, and tell him they're from you." He left the compartment before the twins could say another word, pulling his trunk and Hedwig in her cage behind him. He could feel Dark radiating bemusement in the back of his head.

Uncle Vernon was waiting on the other side of the barrier with Mrs. Weasley standing nearby. She grabbed him in a quick hug and whispered, "I think Dumbledore will let you come and stay with us later in the summer, Harry. Keep in touch."

"Bye, Harry," Ron said, patting him on the shoulder.

"See you, Harry," said Hermione and did something Harry didn't expect and that she had never done before: she kissed him on the cheek.

"Harry... thanks," George muttered and Fred nodded emphatically in agreement.

Harry winked at them before following Uncle Vernon out to the car.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never lived in the UK, so I have no idea how long it might take to get from King's Cross to Privet Drive. My best guess using an online route planner is about an hour...ish.
> 
> As for the cost of their stay at the Leaky... I picked a random bed and breakfast in London and found out the cost of a month’s stay there (about £4000 for one adult) and ran it through an online currency converter. Let me know if you think it sounds ludicrous...?
> 
> Yoruko Rhapsodos on FF-net asked about pairings. I haven't decided yet, but probably not slash: I really don't think I could write it convincingly.

Dark had been in the presence of Vernon Dursley for all of five minutes and was distinctly unimpressed. The man had started ranting about "Harry's lot" and "those freaks" as soon as they had sat down in the car, without so much as a "How was school?", and had yet to stop or find another topic. Feeling Harry's resignation Dark started plotting his evening's activities, carefully keeping his thoughts to himself.

 

Finally, after an hour of sitting there listening to Vernon rant (he eventually switched to complaining about other drivers) they arrived at Number Four, Privet Drive. Harry wordlessly retrieved his school things, made his way to the front door and rang the bell. **You don't have a key?** Dark asked, surprised.

 

 _Of course not,_ Harry answered bitterly, _why waste a perfectly good key on a 'worthless freeloader' like me? They hate magic, and they hate me._ Harry sounded tired, and clearly had no interest in talking about it. Instead, he sent Dark the memory of his pre-Hogwarts years.

 

After a moment a very sour-looking Aunt Petunia answered the door. Dark thought she looked like a very unpleasant person, in stark contrast to Emiko Niwa or even Molly Weasley. Harry just stared at her wordlessly for a moment, then stepped past her and into the house, making his way upstairs. He entered one of the bedrooms with - Dark felt like doing a double-take - a cat-flap on the door? And was that evidence of bars on the window? Harry set the trunk and Hedwig's cage down, opened the cage door and flopped down on the bed. Hedwig hooted and flew up to perch on the back of his desk chair.

 

After a few minutes of silent, inconclusive wondering, Dark couldn't keep quiet anymore. **Why do you live with them if they hate you? Why not stay with the Weasleys?**

 

 _I asked Dumbledore once_ , Harry answered. _He said something about blood protection: I have to stay with Aunt Petunia because she's my mum's sister. How that works when she barely tolerates me I don't know._

**Blood protection? Would that even work anymore?** Dark wondered. **They used your blood in that ritual; they might be able to find you now. I don't know much about that kind of ritual** , he admitted, **The Niwas did all the research and then told me what to go steal.**

_...I think we'd better play it safe and leave,_ Harry admitted after a short pause. _I'll ask Hermione about it in September. Where do you think we should go? Everybody's going to recognise me._

**Not if we go as me** , Dark countered. **You wizards are pretty backwards. Nobody will have heard of the Great Dark Mousy (the heathens!) so nobody'll notice anything. And if we stay at a magical inn we can keep an eye out for Voldie.**

 

On hearing Dark's nickname for Voldemort, Harry burst into quiet, breathless giggles. Later he would insist it was laughter, not giggles. Teenage boys don’t giggle. No, they don’t. Really!

 

It took a while for him to get himself under control, but when he did he told Dark, _I don't want to use the Knight Bus, so I think we'll have to wait until morning. I'll leave Hedwig's cage here and we'll take public transport. No, wait, I don't have any Muggle money!_ he realised.

 

 **Leave that to me** , Dark reassured him. **Petunia won't notice a few pounds going missing for a little while, so we'll have time to get away before she does.**

 

Just then Aunt Petunia chose that moment to bang Harry’s door open. “ _Boy_! What are your freakish things doing up here?! You _know_ they belong in the cupboard downstairs!”

 

Harry stood up and stared coldly at her. “My stuff stays here. I’m leaving tomorrow, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Aunt Petunia opened her mouth to say something so he added, “I’ll hex you if I have to.” It was an empty threat, but Petunia didn’t need to know that. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, not saying a word. Finally she left the room, closing the door behind her.

 

____

 

That night, just as Dark was planning to sneak downstairs using a sleeping Harry’s body and appearance, the door opened and Petunia swept in silently. While Dark played dead she quietly set down a sealed envelope on the desk, lingered a moment looking at whom she thought to be her nephew, then swept out again, closing the door. Dark waited a moment before almost-silently opening the envelope. He twitched involuntarily at the contents, put it back in, and stuffed the envelope under his pillow.

 

Harry woke bright and early – his alarm clock told him it was only about six o’clock – to Uncle Vernon’s loud snores and froze when he felt something papery and smooth under his right hand, which was under the pillow. He pulled it out, inspected the contents, and froze. The envelope contained three five-pound notes and about half a dozen ten-pound notes, and a sheet of plain white printer paper. He unfolded the sheet and took a look at it. It read:

 

Harry,

 

Here. Use this as you see fit.

 

Aunt Petunia

 

Harry was speechless. Finally, after several minutes, he managed a murmured “Wow. That’s a lot of money.” His only answer was a snore from Dark. Harry snorted at the response (or lack thereof), stuffed the five-pound notes in his pocket, got up, stuck the envelope and remaining money in his trunk and opened the window. “You’d better go, Hedwig. Come and find me later on.”

 

Hedwig hooted in understanding and flew out of the window.

 

Harry grabbed his trunk and left the room. He tried to be as quiet as possible in dragging it downstairs, and was relieved when Uncle Vernon’s snoring continued undisturbed. He wordlessly made his way to the nearest bus stop and got on the next bus.

 

When the bus finally came to a halt near the Leaky Cauldron Harry dragged his trunk into a nearby alley and started trying to wake his hitchhiker up. _Dark. Oi, Dark! Time to wake up: we’re almost at the inn._

 

 **I’m up already. Just warning you, this is going to hurt.** And Dark took over. The transformation seemed to take forever and Harry felt like yelling his head off at the pain, but kept stubbornly silent even in his own head. Finally it was complete and Dark made a show of nonchalantly picking up Harry’s trunk and making his way toward the Leaky Cauldron. **You’re too shrimpy,** Dark teased Harry as he walked. **These clothes are way too short and tight in all the wrong places!**

 

 _Well, I’m sorry the Dursleys starved me for ten years!_ Harry snapped, slightly hurt. Dark made no verbal reply, but Harry thought he felt a faint twinge of… shame? Unvoiced apology? …coming from Dark. What followed was an uncomfortable silence.

 

When he entered, Dark was greeted by Tom the barman. “What would you like?”

 

“How much for a month’s stay for one person?” Dark asked.

 

“That would be two hundred galleons a week,” came the answer.

 

“All right, I’ll have to go to the bank,” Dark told him and made his way to the back of the pub and the entrance to Diagon Alley. **Harry, how do I get through here?**

 

 _You need something like a wand – it’s kind of a test for magic_ , Harry replied, still a bit upset.

 

 **Will a feather do?** Dark asked. Harry had no answer, so Dark pulled out one of his feathers and touched it to the appropriate brick. After a moment the entrance opened up, and Dark went on through.

 

 _I think we need a weightless bag for all that money: I don’t know about you, but the idea of carrying two hundred galleons doesn’t sound like fun. The Triwizard coin bag must’ve been charmed – it didn’t weight much at all and wouldn’t gold normally weight a lot more?_ Harry commented.

 

Dark wordlessly projected agreement as he made his way to one of the shops in the alley. A few minutes later he had purchased a new mostly-weightless money pouch and started looking around.

 

 _You’re not going to start picking pockets, are you?_ Harry asked warily.

 

 **You got a better idea? This way we don’t have to empty your account and draw attention from anyone watching you** , Dark pointed out.

 

 _You’re right_ , Harry admitted reluctantly.

 

Half an hour later Dark had successfully picked the pockets of several Death Eaters and other shady characters, and had more than enough to cover the next week’s stay. Dark, with Harry watching from the back of his mind, went into Flourish and Blotts and started perusing the Defence section. Harry snorted quietly over the idea of Lucius Malfoy’s money being used to buy Defence books and Dark grinned. After picking up several titles he wandered into the Charms and Transfiguration sections and chose quite a few more books. Finally he trotted over to the counter and paid for the books, using up the remainder of Malfoy’s money.

 

Eventually they returned to the Leaky Cauldron and caught Tom’s attention. “Whose name should I book the room under?” Tom asked.

 

“My name is Dark Mousy,” Dark answered with just a hint of his ego showing through. Tom, however, missed or deliberately ignored it as he wrote something down in his book.

 

“You’re in room nine,” he announced and offered Dark help in carrying the trunk and shopping bags upstairs.

 

“No thanks, I’ve got it,” Dark waved him off and easily moved the luggage up the stairs.

 

Harry was only slightly surprised to see Hedwig already waiting in their room when they got up there: he was more surprised by the white, furry creature perched on the desk.

 

“Wiz!” Dark exclaimed.

 

 _Huh?_ Harry asked, confused. _How’d he get here? You’re from something like eight years in the future, right? Isn’t he supposed to be in Japan with the Niwas, waiting for Daisuke?_

 

 **I don’t know, but he’s pretty smart _and_ he’s magical. I’m not going to question it**, Dark said and shrugged.

 

 _This means we’re going to steal something, doesn’t it?_ Harry realised. _Something big._

 

 **Probably** , Dark answered, **so you need to start practicing. We’ll go to the park tomorrow.**

For some reason the idea made the fine hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stand on end.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m drawing on Google Maps and my own (very) limited memories of London in this chapter. I probably got a few things wrong: if you notice something, please tell me so I can fix it!

The shivers had been well-deserved, Harry decided, as he finally came to a gasping halt somewhere in Hyde Park. Dark was a relentless, annoying taskmaster, and for the past month Harry had been driven further than he thought possible. He was now a fairly accomplished acrobat, although he supposed he would never be anywhere near as good as someone who started at a very young age, and very good at running far and fast. Today was July thirty-first, so Harry had it “easy” – _just_ two laps around the park.

After catching his breath Harry made his way to Hyde Park Corner and took the Tube to the station nearest the Leaky Cauldron. Harry jumped in surprise when a hand gripped his shoulder as he was emerging from the station. He whirled around to discover... “Professor Lupin!” he exclaimed, relieved to see an unthreatening and familiar face.

“Harry! Where have you been?” Lupin asked, “Everyone’s been so worried about you! And why,” he continued, indicating Harry’s brand-new black jeans and jumper, “are your clothes so oversized?”

“I _couldn’t_ stay with the Dursleys,” Harry stated emphatically, and explained his reasoning. “And I got sick of Dudley’s cast-offs and wanted to be prepared in case I had a growth spurt. I _am_ actually eating this summer, after all,” he added.

Lupin frowned but accepted this explanation for now. “I’m taking you with me,” he told Harry in a no-nonsense sort of tone. “We’ve set up headquarters somewhere undetectable.”

“Alright, but I need to get my things from the Leaky Cauldron – that’s where I was heading,” Harry responded.

“The Leaky? But Tom didn’t know where you were!” Lupin protested.

“I didn’t say I was staying there as myself, did I?” Harry answered with a small, secretive smile. Lupin gave him an odd look but made no verbal comment.

On entering Harry’s room Lupin took a quick look around and soon spotted Wiz sprawled out on the pillow. “Who’s this?” he asked.

“That’s Wiz,” Harry answered, “I found him the other day.”

“Well, I suppose you can bring him,” Lupin said after a moment’s deliberation, “He should be easy enough to transport.”

Harry got started packing, and while he worked he asked, “How are we getting to... wherever?”

“Brooms,” Lupin answered immediately, “It’s the only way. You’re too young to Apparate, they might be watching the Floo and unauthorised Portkeys are too risky.” But Harry, having had the chance to do some studying during the last month, disagreed.

“But what about Side-Along? It would be a lot quicker,” he pointed out.

“How do you know about that?” Lupin asked, confused.

“I’ve been doing a lot of reading – not much else to do when you’re trying to keep out of sight,” Harry responded.

“Well, I suppose you have a point,” Professor Lupin acknowledged.

As he continued packing Harry was distracted by Dark. **So that’s Lupin.**

_Best Defence teacher I ever had_ , Harry agreed. _We might have to be careful around him: he’s really observant and he’s got a good nose. It wouldn’t take much for him to notice something funny about me_.

**Great, a challenge!** Dark enthused.

Harry rolled his eyes, making sure he was turned away from Lupin, and finished packing.

Ten minutes, a Disillusionment Charm and a Side-Along Apparition later Harry found himself standing on a messy, weedy jungle of a patch of grass in the middle of a small square, still holding his trunk. He took a quick look around and noticed that the houses surrounding the square all had either peeling paint, broken windows, heaps of rubbish on the doorstep or some combination of the aforementioned.

“Where are we?” Harry asked. Instead of answering, Lupin took a look around to make sure no-one was watching and pulled out a scrap of parchment. Hedwig hooted softly from her perch on Harry’s right shoulder, and Wiz shifted on his left.

“Here,” Lupin said as he handed the parchment to Harry. “Read and memorise that quickly.”

Harry looked down at the paper and read the vaguely familiar, narrow handwriting. It said, “ _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.”_

_Huh?_ Harry wondered.

**Huh?** Dark asked simultaneously.

_Wait, where’s number twelve? There’s nothing between numbers eleven and thirteen_! Harry realised

“Professor?” he began to voice his question only to be quietly interrupted by Lupin.

“Think about what you just read, Harry.”

Harry went over the text in his head and as soon as he reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place something strange happened. An extra house seemed to squeeze its way between the two aforementioned houses, almost like it was inflating. The radio in number eleven boomed along uninterrupted: clearly the Muggles inside hadn’t felt anything.

Lupin gently pushed Harry toward the door, saying, “Get in quick, Harry, we don’t want anyone to see. Don’t go too far in and don’t touch anything.”

Harry stepped over the threshold and into the gloom of the old house. The air smelt musty, sickly sweet and mouldy. Clearly the house had been empty for quite some time. Lupin followed him in, shut the door and pulled out his wand. “Here...” he said in a very quiet voice and tapped Harry on the head, removing the Disillusionment Charm. “Now, let’s have some light on the subject,” he added as he cast something wordlessly. Instantly the old gas lamps up and down the hall hissed to life, casting a dull, flickering light on the peeling wallpaper and ancient carpet.

Almost immediately Mrs. Weasley bustled out of the door at the other end of the hall and pulled him into a rib-cracking hug. “Oh Harry, I’m so glad to see you’re alright! I was so worried! And you look so well! Where were you?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley, I was at the Leaky Cauldron: perfectly safe,” Harry reassured her.

“Tom knew where you were?! Oh, when I get my hands on him...!” Mrs. Weasley hissed.

“No, no, he had no idea! I wasn’t there as myself, y’see,” Harry told her in a conciliatory tone. After a little more fussing Mrs. Weasley turned to Remus.

“He’s just arrived, the meeting started a few minutes ago.” Lupin headed in the direction of the door Mrs. Weasley had just used, and Harry tried to follow him. Mrs. Weasley held him back, saying, “No, Harry, the meeting’s only for Order members. Ron and Hermione are upstairs: you can wait with them until it’s over and we have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall: we don’t want to wake anything up,” she added in an urgent whisper.

“What...” Harry started, only to be stopped by Mrs. Weasley.

“I’ll explain later: I’m supposed to be at the meeting. I’ll just show you where you’re sleeping.” She pressed a finger to her lips and led him past an umbrella stand which seemed to be made of a severed troll leg and up the stairs. The row of shrunken heads on the staircase wall was disturbing enough, but Harry’s slightly delayed realisation that the heads belonged to house-elves was even more so. Going by first impressions this house seemed to have belonged to the most evil of evil wizards. What on earth was the Order doing in a place like this?

Harry opened his mouth to ask Mrs. Weasley about it, but she hushed him and directed him to the right-hand door from the steps on the second landing. “Ron and Hermione will explain everything. I’ve really got to dash: I’ll call you when it’s over,” she told him and headed back down the stairs.

_I wonder what the meeting’s about,_ Harry thought, and turned the doorknob. He only caught a brief glimpse of the room before his vision was obscured by a brown bush and he was bowled over by a very emotional Hermione.

“HARRY! Ron, look, it’s Harry! He’s alright! Oh, Harry! Where were you? Everyone’s been so worried since you disappeared from the Dursleys! Do you realise how dangerous that was?!”

“Gerroff him and let him breathe, Hermione,” Ron told her, grinning from ear to ear with relief as he pushed the door shut. He appeared to have grown a fair bit over the summer, which made him look a bit ganglier than before, though the rest of his features remained unchanged.

**Harry, you lucky dog!** Dark put in his own two cents from the back of Harry’s mind, **Something you forgot to tell me?**

_It’s not like that! She’s the closest thing I’ve got to a sister_.

Finally Hermione let him back up and repeated her earlier question. “Where were you, Harry?”

“I was at the Leaky Cauldron all summer and no, Tom didn’t know I was there. I stayed as somebody else,” Harry explained. “I was worried the blood wards might let Voldemort through since they got some of my blood in June. Could they still use my blood even if the ritual failed last time? I didn’t want to take the chance.” Ron and Hermione tried to get him to tell them how he had remained undetected over the summer but Harry refused to tell them. _Maybe once we know **why**_ _you’re here?_ Harry asked Dark, who gave no answer yet.

“What _is_ this place, anyway?” Harry asked aloud.

“Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” Ron answered instantly. “But you already knew that,” he added, the tips of his ears going bright red.

“It’s a secret society against Voldemort. Dumbledore’s in charge, he founded it,” Hermione elaborated.

“Who’s in it?” Harry asked.

“Quite a few people, all adults – Mrs. Weasley won’t let anybody underage join,” Hermione answered, and was cut off by Ron.

“We’ve met about twenty of them, but we think there are more.”

“What about the Death Eaters?” Harry asked. “Have they tried again?”

“Yeah, they grabbed a Muggleborn witch – what was her name again?” Ron started.

“Judith Archer,” Hermione reminded him. “That was the day before yesterday – Snape reported it at the last meeting. Voldemort’s back. ”

“Oh.” Harry looked pensive. “I wonder why my scar didn’t react.” Inwardly, however, he knew: Dark had been in control for most of that day, so of course he didn’t feel anything.

“We don’t know details since we haven’t been able to sit in on a meeting,” Hermione added. “But we’ve got the general idea.”

“Fred and George invented Extendable Ears: they’re really useful,” Ron continued. “But Mum found them and had a fit. The twins had to hide them to keep her from binning the lot. We got a fair bit of use out of them before Mum caught on. We know some of the Order members are keeping tabs of the Death Eaters, recruiting more people for the Order and others have been busy trying to find _you_ ,” Ron said with a pointed look at Harry.

Harry ignored that last bit. “So what have you been doing, besides eavesdropping on the Order?” he asked.

“We’ve been keeping busy,” Hermione answered him. “We’ve been decontaminating this house – it’s been abandoned so long there are things breeding in here. We’ve managed to clean out the kitchen and most of the bedrooms, and I think we’re doing the drawing room tomo – AARGH!”

There were two loud cracks and Fred and George materialised out of thin air in the middle of the room.

“Stop _doing_ that!” Hermione snapped.

“Hullo, Harry, thought we’d come see what was going on,” George told Harry, beaming.

“You two passed your Apparition tests, then?” Harry asked.

“Perfectly,” answered Fred, who was holding what appeared to be a very long piece of flesh-coloured string.

“It would’ve taken you about thirty seconds longer to _walk_ down the stairs,” Ron grumbled.

“Time is Galleons, Ronniekins,” Fred told him and turned to Harry. “We’re going to use these,” he lifted the string, which Harry now noted was trailing out the door, “to try and hear what’s going on downstairs. Extendable Ears,” he added on seeing Harry’s raised eyebrow.

“Careful,” Ron said, staring at the Ear, “If Mum sees one of those again...”

“It’s worth the risk, that’s a major meeting going on down there,” George told them.

The door opened and Ginny appeared. “Oh, hello Harry,” she said and addressed the twins. “It’s a no-go with the Extendable Ears: she’s gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.”

“How d’you know?” George asked, crestfallen.

“Tonks told me how. I chucked a load of Dungbombs at the door from the landing and they bounced off, didn’t even make contact. No way the Ears’ll get through that gap.”

“Shame,” Fred said, “I really wanted to know what old Snape had to say. He’s giving a report now, top secret.”

After another half-hour of comparing notes Fred stiffened, muttered “Uh-oh,” and pulled the Ear back into the bedroom. Once he had picked it up he and George Apparated away. Mere seconds later Mrs. Weasley came bustling in.

“The meeting’s over, you can come down for dinner now,” she said. “Everyone’s so glad to know you’re safe, Harry. And who left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?”

“Crookshanks,” Ginny said without batting an eye. “He loves playing with them.”

They had almost made it to the kitchen door when a witch whose purple hair reminded Harry of Dark’s tripped over the troll-leg umbrella stand in the hall. The resulting crash was immediately followed by a loud, piercing screech as the curtains on one of the portraits flew open and a horrible-looking woman shrieked about mutants, half-breeds and the defilement of her ancestral home. Lupin and Mrs. Weasley tried unsuccessfully to pull the curtains shut again. After a moment a very dishevelled Sirius Black emerged from the kitchen and roared “Shut up, you horrible old hag! SHUT UP!” Finally they managed to close the curtains and Sirius spotted Harry.

“Oh Harry, thank God you’re safe! Where have you been?”

And for the third time in one day Harry had to explain himself. After his explanation was finished a round of introductions followed, and Harry now knew that the “Tonks” Ginny had mentioned was the witch who tripped over the umbrella stand.

_____

The next day Harry found himself pressed into service clearing out a glass case in the drawing room, and after sorting through various odds and ends – such as a many-legged pair of tweezers which scuttled up Harry’s arm when he tried to pick it up, and tried to pierce his skin only to be snatched away by Sirius and bludgeoned with a heavy book – he eventually picked up an ugly, heavy locket with a vaguely serpentine S. As he made to open it Harry was surprised by Dark telling him to put it away quickly. **It almost feels like a Hikari artwork. Don’t throw it out – I’ll take a closer look at it later – but try not to touch it bare-handed. And whatever you do, don’t wear it! We don’t know what that thing can do.** Harry, remembering some of the stories Dark had told him, gave a mental nod and stuffed it in his pocket.

He spent the rest of the day dusting and scrubbing, a monotony broken only by the repeated attempts of Kreacher, the Black family house-elf, to steal back items from the rubbish sack. The house-elf would always swear vehemently when confronted and slink off to his bedroom, only to return in a little while to try again. Finally evening came and everyone headed off to bed. Harry lay awake for about half an hour, listening to make sure no-one was still awake before he quietly got up and padded down to the drawing room, with the locket in the front pocket of his shirt.

Once he was in the drawing room, having read his fifth-year Charms book in advance, Harry was able to successfully cast a silencing charm on the room. He pulled out the locket once more, hung it on the wall on a conveniently unoccupied nail, and looked at the engraving. With a flash of insight he spoke to the thing in Parseltongue, telling in to open. Red eyes appeared on the two halves of the locket and it seemed to get ready to speak. Before the horrible thing could get out a complete word Harry let Dark take over. It actually seemed to hurt a bit less, for some reason. It was less like a mild form of the Cruciatus curse and more like two or three years’ worth of growth pains condensed into a couple of seconds, now. Perhaps he was just getting used to it?

Dark kept the locket at arm’s length and took a good look at it. It radiated evil, power and the echoes of a twisted soul. It appeared to be a very powerful, skewed Hikari artwork, but no Hikari piece he had ever encountered had felt quite like this one. It felt identical to Harry’s scar, that much Dark was sure of. After examining it, Dark wasted no time in setting about sealing it. The locket resisted for some minutes, speaking in disturbing tones and telling dreadful lies about Harry’s parents, but finally lost the battle. As its power was destroyed it let out a horrible, drawn-out scream which took several minutes to fade away into silence. Harry breathed out a heavy sigh of relief in the back of Dark’s mind as the lies and screaming finally came to an end.

_I wonder what that thing was... Not an ordinary locket, that’s for sure!_ he mused.

**And why did it feel just like your scar?** Dark wondered.

_I don’t know. We’ll have to ask Dumbledore when we get back to Hogwarts_ , Harry answered. Dark remained silent.

The remainder of the summer was spent cleaning and removing other dangerous, cursed objects (although no other items like the locket surfaced), a continuing monotony broken only by the regular ringing of the doorbell as various Order members came and went. Every time the bell rang, the portrait Harry had learned belonged to Mrs. Black, Sirius’s mother, would start shrieking about blood traitors, mudbloods and filth. After about the third time this happened Dark started planning his next heist: that accursed portrait; a plan which was foiled only by Harry’s insistence that while everyone would appreciate the peace and quiet, the adults would only become suspicious and soon discover Dark’s existence. Harry already had enough trouble explaining away the glassy look in his eyes when talking to Dark.

On the very last day of the holidays Harry was occupied by cleaning Hedwig’s favourite perch, the top of the wardrobe, when Ron came into the room carrying a couple of envelopes.

“Booklists are here,” Ron announced and handed Harry his. “’Bout time, I thought they’d forgotten since they’re so late...” he trailed off as he realised what _else_ was in his envelope. “Bloody hell!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yay! CapsLock!Harry *didn’t* make an appearance!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realised I'd forgotten to post a couple of chapters here when I posted them to FF.net. I'm not dead, Real Life has just been prodding my backside (to paraphrase Sir Terry Pratchett).
> 
> Dark still only has a fairly minor part, but he’ll play a much bigger role later on (not for a few chapters though, I think).

”Bloody hell!”

 

”What?” Harry asked.

 

”...Prefect!” Ron uttered, after gaping for several long seconds. “They made me _Prefect_!”

 

And with perfect timing, the twins Apparated in right next to Harry’s chair. By now Harry was so desensitised to this occurring that he didn’t even twitch.

 

“We were wondering who set the Dorsey book,” Fred commented.

 

“Because it almost looks like Dumbledore made Snape the new Defence teacher,” George finished.

 

There was a collective shudder. After a moment Harry opened his own envelope and read the booklist.

 

“Three new ones,” he said, “ _Plunkett’s Practical Potions_ by Carl Applegate, _Defence for Dunderheads_ by Damara Dorsey and _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_ , by Miranda Goshawk.”

 

The twins nodded, but Ron didn’t react.

 

“What’s up with you, Ron?” asked Fred.

 

Ron was still unresponsive. He was too busy gaping at the contents of his envelope. Fred impatiently moved around to look over Ron’s shoulder, and his mouth promptly fell open. “Prefect?” he said incredulously. “ _Prefect?_ ”

 

George lunged forward and snatched the envelope out of Ron’s hand an upended it. A red-and-gold badge fell into his palm. “No way,” he almost whispered.

 

“It’s got to be a mistake,” Fred insisted, grabbing the letter out of the envelope and held it up to the light. “Nobody sane would make Ron a Prefect!”

 

“We thought he was bound to pick _you_ , Harry,” George said, indignant.

 

“Winning the Tournament and everything!” Fred added.

 

“I s’pose all the mad stuff counted against him,” George mused aloud, looking at Fred.

 

“Yeah,” Fred agreed, “Yeah, you’ve caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you has their priorities straight.” He trotted over to Harry and clapped him on the back before turning to give Ron an almost scolding look.

 

“Prefect... ickle Ronniekins the _Prefect_.”

 

Harry was just glad not to have the responsibility. Dealing with both whatever Dark’s purpose here was _and_ the responsibilities of a Prefect seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. In the back of Harry’s head, Dark let out a loud snore.

 

* * *

 

 

Mrs Weasley was overjoyed at Ron’s news and bought him a broomstick while in Diagon Alley buying everyone’s school books. Ron accepted it with a pleased smile shortly before dinner, and carried on smiling right through the meal.

 

Lupin kept giving Harry odd, thoughtful looks, but never gave voice to his thoughts. Harry felt slightly nervous after the third such look, worried that maybe Lupin really was catching on. However, nothing came of it that night.

 

Harry slipped away as quickly as he could after dinner, but was delayed by Mrs Weasley’s reaction to the boggart. When he finally made it into his bedroom he shut the door behind him and slumped against it, sliding to the floor with a drawn-out sigh. He was already developing a headache, which was further exacerbated by his scar flaring up in pain only a few moments later.

 

Harry grumbled and rubbed his forehead, thoughts revolving around the photo Moody had shown him and how those people had been blissfully unaware of their imminent fates. He had never felt as old and weary as he did at that moment. In his head, Dark finally awoke and momentarily drew Harry’s thoughts away from the people in the photograph.

 

**What’s wrong?**

Harry heaved a great sigh and said, _Moody. He showed me a photo of the original Order and it just really got to me, seeing all those people. They had no real idea they’d be dead soon after. And Neville’s parents... It just hit me: we’re heading into a war._

**Don’t worry, you’re not alone. _I’m_ not going anywhere, and you’ve still got your friends.**

_Okay, who are you and what have you done with the sarcastic voice in my head?_ Harry asked, slightly cheered. Vaguely guilty, embarrassed silence answered his question. After a moment Harry murmured, _Thanks, Dark._

 

Dark gave no reply. After a moment Ron came in and they went to bed.

 

Harry later recalled the following morning as a blur of packing, scrambling for breakfast and re-packing to include previously-forgotten items. Finally they were ready and made the twenty-minute journey to King’s Cross on foot because, of course, the Ministry was not providing transportation.

 

Harry was thankful that he had sent Hedwig off ahead of time, considering all the strange looks they had been getting from the other pedestrians in the area. After all, a group of people dragging trunks and carrying a small menagerie were hardly a common sight on the streets of London.

 

Once they arrived on platform nine and three quarters Ron and Hermione disappeared to the Prefects’ compartment with apologetic looks and promises to return as soon as they could, and Harry was left to find a compartment with only Ginny and Wiz (and the perpetually-sleeping Dark) for company. Since it was so early he had no problems finding a completely empty compartment at the back of the train, where Ginny joined him at first. After about ten minutes, however, she decided to go and find one of her friends and left him with a whole compartment to himself. Shortly before the train left Harry was joined by a small crowd of first-years who mostly ignored him and chattered away amongst themselves.

 

After another hour Ron and Hermione returned and they struck up a conversation on the coming school year, who they thought might be the new Defence professor, (“Snape. It’s got to be!” said Ron, “Just look at the book title!”) and how they were going to survive with Malfoy as one of the Prefects.

 

“I can’t wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something!” Ron exclaimed. “I want to get Malfoy’s friends – if you can call them that – before he gets mine. Next time I catch those prats bullying somebody I can give them lines. They’ll hate that!”

 

“You’re _not_ going to start abusing your position, _are_ you Ron?” Hermione prodded Ron with a clear warning in her voice.

 

“N-no, of course not,” Ron replied, almost cringing. When Hermione looked away he leaned toward Harry and whispered, “ _She’s_ been spending too much time with _Mum_!” Hermione looked in Ron’s general direction and he promptly sat up straight and tried to look innocent. She looked unconvinced but said nothing.

 

Harry smiled slightly and looked out the window.

 

* * *

 

After a few hours the train finally slowed to a halt and, having already changed into their school robes, Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way out of the train and over to the carriages. Harry came to an abrupt stop a few metres away from the carriages and stared warily.

 

“What are those horse things?”

 

“What horse things?” Ron asked, confused.

 

“The horse things pulling the carriages!” Harry exclaimed, impatient. “Can’t you see them?”

 

“There’s nothing there, mate,” Ron told him, bewildered.

 

Harry, utterly confused, got in the nearest stagecoach and said no more on the subject. _Am I going mad?_ He wondered.

 

 **No** , Dark answered him, **I saw them too**.

 

 _So what are they?_ Harry asked.

 

 Dark’s only answer was a mental shrug. Harry shook his head and paid attention to Ron and Hermione, who were looking at him oddly.

 

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione wanted to know. “Your eyes went all glassy.”

 

“...Nothing,” said Harry. After a little while, perhaps a quarter of an hour, the carriages slowed to a halt near the flagstone steps leading to the main doors of the school. Harry was the last to exit the coach and warily watched the strange, reptilian horse-creatures out of the corner of his eye as he made his way up to the doors.

 

The ceiling of the Great Hall depicted a beautiful, clear night sky with bright twinkling stars. Harry paused for just a moment to watch it, before catching himself and walking to the Gryffindor table. As he sat down between Ron and Hermione he thought she seemed to be giving him yet another strange look.

 

“Harry,” she said, “Are you alright? You haven’t paid that much attention to the ceiling since first year!”

 

“I’m fine, Hermione, just thinking,” he assured her.

 

At that moment the Sorting Hat started its song and no more was said on the topic. Instead there was much discussion of the Hat’s warning, and the unusually lengthy song.

 

“What do you s’pose it meant?” Ron wondered.

 

The ensuing contemplative silence lasted for the remainder of the Sorting.

 

After the last, terrified first-year had been sorted into Hufflepuff, Dumbledore stood up and began his greeting.

 

“To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands: welcome back!” Dumbledore beamed, “I have a whole speech planned out for you, but first – tuck in!” Appreciative laughter rang out along with a smattering of applause as the feast appeared on previously-empty platters and trays.

 

Nearly Headless Nick happened to float by just as the Gryffindors returned to the discussion of the Sorting Hat’s song, and offered his own knowledge on the topic. “Oh, yes, the Hat has given warnings a number of times in the past, always when if felt the school was under threat. And its advice is always the same: stand together, be strong from within.”

 

When all the students had finished eating Dumbledore stood to give his start of year announcements while the trays and platters magically emptied of their contents. “Well, now that we are all digesting another stupendous feast, I have a few announcements to make. The first-years should be aware that the forest on the grounds is expressly forbidden to all students – and a few of our older students should remember that, too. 

 

“I have been asked by Mr Filch, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to inform you that magic is prohibited in the corridors between classes, and so are a number of other things. An extensive list of these things can be found affixed to his office door.

 

“There have been two changes in staffing this year. First, please welcome Professor Eupraxia Bland, who will be teaching Potions this year. I am also pleased to announce that Professor Snape shall be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

 

There was a horrified silence from all of the returning students in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, who knew just what Snape was like as a teacher. The first years and Slytherins, however, applauded loudly – the first years because they did not know any better, and the Slytherins because Snape was their favourite teacher.

 

Dumbledore went on to announce Quidditch tryouts on the following Wednesday and finally sent everyone off to bed. Ron and Hermione began gathering up the first-years and Harry, after getting the password from Hermione, started making his way to Gryffindor tower. Taking a few hidden shortcuts allowed him to avoid most of the usual pointing, staring and whispers that followed him around, and especially the accusing looks from those few who thought he had something to do with Cedric’s death.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, and once Harry was stretched out in his comfortable four-poster bed it only took a short while for him to fall asleep.

 

The weekend before Monday, September fourth, was spent catching up with friends, showing first-years how to get to the Great Hall for meals, and generally getting ready for classes. A few people asked Harry about the Third Task, wanting to get their facts straight, but for the most part Harry was left in peace. Poor Wiz, on the other hand, was cooed and fussed over by the Gryffindor girls (except for Hermione) to the point where he finally took to hiding under Harry’s bed for some peace and quiet.

 

* * *

 

Eupraxia Bland, Harry decided, was a gaudily-dressed absolute walking disaster. There was something very wrong with every potion she had the class brew: this resulted in potions exploding left, right and centre. Her eye-searing wardrobe only exacerbated the problem by making it impossible for the students to see their potions reacting badly to an ingredient, which therefore prevented them from halting the reaction in its tracks. The problem truly came to a head two weeks into the new term when instead of setting the class to carry on brewing their current potion she called everyone to the front of the room and said,

 

“Now class, watch me as I show you how to brew the Strengthening Solution...” Professor Blank started adding pomegranate juice to the brew and Hermione groaned quietly.

 

“That’s supposed to be salamander blood,” she muttered just loudly enough for Harry to hear.

 

Mere moments after the juice was added the potion began making ominous noises and frothing over. Professor Bland continued talking while the potion turned neon green, and something told Harry to get under the table.

 

“ _Down_!” he yelled, pulling Hermione down with him and most of the class followed his lead as the exploded violently and without further warning. Fortunately for the observing students (but unfortunately for Bland), the potion splattered only onto the teacher. Almost immediately multicoloured boils formed on Bland’s skin, rapidly followed by her hair turning a bright, orangey red.

 

The class watched in mixed horror and fascination as the boils began to burst, and toxic green slime covered the teacher’s face. Bland shrieked in horror and ran out of the classroom, presumably in the general direction of the hospital wing. The class stood in silence for a few seconds, then filed out of the classroom – all except for Hermione who stayed behind long enough to clean up the mess made by the exploding potion.

 

“I reckon she won’t be back to teaching today,” Ron commented as they finally made their way up to the common room. Harry nodded wordlessly in agreement.

 

At the end of the lunch period one of the second-years approached Harry to tell him Dumbledore wanted to see him in his office, and told him the password. ”Meet me in the unused classroom near the ladder to the Divination tower, at eight this evening,” Harry told Ron and Hermione.

“Why?” Hermione asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Harry said and hurried off to see Dumbledore.

As he reached the gargoyle Harry said, “Fazer Blue.” The gargoyle grudgingly moved aside, moving irritatingly slowly.

 

Dumbledore looked up as Harry entered and said, “Ah, Harry my boy, come in and have a seat. Lemon sherbet?”

 

“Er, no thank you, Professor. You wanted to see me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fazer Blue (Fazerin sininen) is a brand of absolutely wonderful milk chocolate. If you ever get the chance to try it - don't miss out!
> 
> I’m sure you noticed I didn’t reproduce the canonical song or try and write a new one. I didn’t think I could do a convincing job of it, so I left it to the imagination.
> 
> I don’t really do Evil!Dumbledore. Neglectful, yes, (see Foundling,) but I reckon he had the best of intentions even when making (big) mistakes. And I’m sure we all know the location that good intentions pave the way to...


	5. Chapter 5

"Lemon sherbet?"  
  
“Er, no thank you, Professor. You wanted to see me?” Harry politely declined.  
  
"To business, then. Have you ever heard of a horcrux?" Dumbledore enquired.  
  
"No, Professor, what's that?" Harry asked.  
  
"A horcrux is an object - any object - containing a fragment of someone's soul. It is one of the darkest of dark arts because a horcrux is made with the act of murder. I believe that Lord Voldemort made several horcruxes, and that the diary you destroyed in your second year was one of them. The horcruxes keep him from truly being killed while even one of them is intact. As for the locations of the others, I have no idea as yet," Dumbledore explained.  
  
Harry appeared to deliberate silently for a moment, but in reality he was consulting Dark.  
  
_The locket! The locket was a horcrux!_ Harry realised. _That horrible voice did sound like him,_ he commented _. Should I tell Dumbledore?_ he asked Dark.  
  
**Yes** , Dark advised, **He can help find the others.**  
  
Finally Harry admitted aloud, "Professor, I think I know where one of them is. It's dead, sir."  
  
"Oh?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Yes sir, it's in my trunk. _How_ it's dead is a bit of a long story, sir," Harry told him.  
  
"We have time, Harry," Dumbledore assured him with a twinkle in his eyes.  
  
So Harry told his story in as much detail as he could. Dumbledore listened with great interest and finally said, "That is good news. I suspect Lord Voldemort hid some of his horcruxes in hard-to-reach places, like the Hikari artwork. If Mr Mousy is as good a thief as I remember the Kaitou Kid being, his help would be of great aid to us in this endeavour."  
  
Harry felt Dark twitch at being referred to as _Mr Mousy_. A moment later Dark said, **Let me talk to him.  
  
** Harry acquiesced and, after only minimal pain, Dark sat in his place.  
  
"Mr Mousy, I presume?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Dark involuntarily twitched again and said, "Just Dark. Nobody ever calls me Mr Mousy."  
  
"Then you must call me Albus," Dumbledore insisted.  
  
"Okay, Albus, do you know **what** the other horcruxes are?" Dark asked.  
  
"I have one - a ring belonging to Voldemort's grandfather - here in my office. I have been unable to destroy it as yet," Dumbledore admitted.  
  
"I'll seal it right now. Where is it?" Dark asked.  
  
Dumbledore opened his bottom desk drawer and pulled out an ugly gold ring with a cracked black stone and set it down on the far side of his desk. Dark, in turn, pulled out a feather. Once Dumbledore was out of the line of fire he set about sealing it.  
  
Once the ring had gone still and quiet Dark relaxed, slumping a bit and breathing slightly harder than normal.  
  
"Well done, my boy," Dumbledore congratulated him with twinkling eyes and a pleased smile. Dark preened a bit before letting Harry come back.  
  
"Please don't feed the ego, Professor," he said, wincing at Dark's reaction to this comment.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled and said, "I believe it is nearly time for Defence. If you hurry you should make it to the classroom before your friends do."  
  
"Yes sir. If you find out where one of the other horcruxes is..."  
  
"I shall inform you, Harry."  
  
Harry nodded and left the headmaster's office. Halfway down a staircase he felt Dark start thinking hard. After a few minutes Dark decided to voice his thoughts.  
  
**Your scar's a horcrux.**  
  
Harry tripped in surprise. _Huh?_  
  
**That's why it feels like the locket and the ring.  
**__  
I've got a bit of Voldemort inside me? Yuck! ****  
  
I'll seal it tonight: better hurry up so you don’t get in trouble.

Harry quickened his pace and made the rest of his journey to the appropriate classroom at a brisk trot. Within moments of his arrival inside the Defence classroom, which already held most of his Gryffindor classmates, he heard running footsteps approaching. A few seconds later Ron and Hermione rounded the corner opposite from where he had come from. He cocked an eyebrow at Hermione, who flushed a bit as she sat down and claimed to have found a fascinating book in the library which had kept her too busy to notice the time.

About a minute after they had all found their seats and pulled out their equipment Snape came sweeping in, his robes billowing out behind him like a large, black cloud – or a pair of bat wings.   
  
"Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts,'" he told the class, looking disturbingly pleased. "Today we will begin studying the Patronus charm. It is a very difficult spell that I doubt any of you will be capable of mastering: however, it will be a very necessary spell for you to know in the future. The Dark Lord will eventually call the Dementors to him: when this happens, you must be able to defend yourselves. The incantation is _Expecto Patronum._ As you speak the incantation, focus on a happy memory. This will be much more difficult when faced with a Dementor. Potter! Let us see your attempt at performing this spell." _  
_  
Harry stood up, drew his wand and calmly cast, "Expecto Patronum." The great silver stag erupted from his wand, galloped around the room and finally came to a halt in front of him. It looked him straight in the eye before fading away. He glanced at Snape and saw the sour look on his face.  
  
Snape told Harry to sit down and then ignored him, turning instead to the rest of the class. "Well, what are you waiting for? Start casting!"  
  
The room was promptly filled with frustrated shouts of "Expecto Patronum! _Expecto Patronum!_ " and faint wisps of silver mist which promptly faded out. Poor Neville was so afraid of Snape that he was unable even to produce the faintest hint of silver. Snape swooped down on him and started making him even more uncomfortable.

By the end of the lesson, Neville was so miserable that Harry headed straight for him and, before he even realised what he was saying, he told Neville, “If you want, I can help you with your Patronus?”

Neville looked exceedingly relieved. “Really, Harry? Thanks!”

“Really. Let’s go find an empty classroom.”

 

* * *

 

That evening Ron and Hermione entered the appointed classroom to find... no-one.

“Guess Harry’s not here,” Ron stated the obvious. They turned towards the door - only to spin round in tandem as they heard the sound of wings flapping.

A tall figure with long, spiky hair and - _wings?_ – stood by the now-open window, silhouetted in the moonlight. Hermione whipped out her wand and cast “ _Lumos!_ ”, brightening the dimly-lit room.

“Who are you and where’s Harry?!” she demanded.

“Harry isn’t here right now,” the figure, who was obviously male, answered. He appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties, and for some reason his hair was _purple_. His wings were very large and black, as though someone had enlarged a crow’s wings and stuck them on his back. “I’m the great phantom thief, Dark Mousy!”

“What have you done with Harry? Who do you work for?” Hermione asked, already going over a list of spells to use on him, and any possible ways to get Professor McGonagall there.

Dark just smirked and the next thing they knew, a slightly rumpled Harry was standing there with Wiz perched on his shoulder.   
  
"Harry? What's going on?" Ron wanted to know.   
  
"Er... it's a long story. Let's sit down," Harry suggested, gesturing to the empty desks. He quickly cast a silencing charm on the room before taking a seat. Once Ron and Hermione were seated he continued. "You remember last year, when the Death Eaters kidnapped me with that portkey? They were trying to do this ritual involving “blood of the enemy” which was supposed to bring Voldemort back, only lightning struck the cauldron and the explosion knocked Wormtail back and next thing I knew my body was sort of moving without my say-so, and it wasn't the Imperius curse... And then, in the hospital wing, I had this dream or vision or something where I met Dark. He's from something like eight years in the future and..."   
  
As Harry's story came to a close he could tell Hermione had gone into research mode and clearly wanted to head straight to the library. Ron, however, dragged her attention away by asking,   
  
"So what did Dumbledore want?"

“He wanted to know if I knew what a horcrux was: he reckons that’s what Voldemort’s diary was,” Harry told them.

“What’s a horcrux?” Hermione wanted to know.

Harry explained what Dumbledore told him and then said, "My scar's a horcrux."   
  
"What?" Hermione asked.   
  
"Part of Voldemort's soul is stuck in my scar," Harry continued. "Dark's going to seal it tonight."   
  
"Won't that be dangerous?" Hermione asked, worried.   
  
"I don't have much of a choice. As long as the horcrux is unsealed, Voldemort can't really be killed," Harry told her.   
  
"Alright, but I don't have to like it. If I don't see you in one piece tomorrow morning I'll be very upset with you!" Hermione threatened him. "And you can tell Dark that too!"   
  
Harry nodded meekly, fearing her temper and impressive arsenal of spells. After a moment of comfortable silence he said, “You’d better go. We don’t know what’s going to happen when Dark starts sealing the horcrux. He’s told me some stories about what cursed art can do and, well...”

Hermione looked torn between amusement and exasperation. “You and your saving-people thing.” Harry smiled sheepishly but stayed firm in his request.

  
"Good luck, mate," Ron told Harry before making he and Hermione made their way toward Gryffindor tower.   
  
Once Ron had gone Harry cast a cushioning charm on the floor before moving to the centre of the room and sitting down cross-legged. He took a deep breath as Dark started work sealing the horcrux.

**Author's Note:**

> Opinions? Corrections? Feel like poking holes? I’d love to hear about it! Thanks for reading. The next chapter should be up soon, when I'm finished tweaking it a little.


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